


Walk a Mile in These Louboutins

by LeftAss



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anyway I am Sorry for this, Established Relationship, F/M, Foot Fetish, Porn Watching, This is female reader btw since it's just what I know, consider yourself warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22556014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftAss/pseuds/LeftAss
Summary: You’re tired of your boyfriend Siebren wearing those stupid athletic slides all over campus in the winter. You make one (1) joke to get him to stop, but instead, you follow up.This is entirely based off of a terrible headcanon that he’s the kind of guy who wears shorts and sandals in the middle of winter.
Relationships: Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Walk a Mile in These Louboutins

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say is sorry, but not sorry

You loved your boyfriend. You really did. But sometimes, he was the most obnoxious man you’d ever met.

You sat in one of those flashy new campus transit buses next to one of your friends on your way to work after class. It snowed 4 inches last night, and there was absolutely no chance you were walking across campus in the cold and wind. 

Walking would have been faster, you sighed, as the bus sat at a standstill waiting for the floodgates of students to travel through the 4-way crosswalk after some of the biggest lectures along the main campus road let out. 

To entertain yourself, you gave up and decided to people-watch out the windows to see if you could find anyone interesting to point out to your friend, like the notorious campus unicyclist. He was around before your class, so maybe you’d see him wipe out in a patch of ice again.

A group of guys, looking like the typical frat pack, walked by in a cluster. You nudged the friend next to you, ready to let out some jab about how any males above the age of 12 are incapable of traveling in groups smaller than five. As your friend turned to you, probably also to make a jab at how annoying frat packs were, one of them caught your eye. Then your eyes went wide. 

You couldn’t tell when they first showed up because of the thick coats and assortment of hats pulled down to half-cover everyone’s faces, but you soon realized it was a few choice members of the basketball team, probably walking to get lunch together in the dining hall all the other student athletes notoriously used. 

Among those basketball players was your boyfriend, Siebren, who only stood out to you because the bastard absolutely was not dressed for the weather. Sure, being Dutch, he knew how to handle the cold, but this was  _ ridiculous _ . 

This man was wearing his warm-up track pants, a hoodie instead of a coat, and worst of all? His toes were out in God’s full glory, displayed by a pair of university-licensed Adidas slides. 

In 4 inches of snow.

You hissed out of the corner of your mouth at your friend. 

“What. In the  _ fuck _ . Is this asshole wearing?”

To say she lost it was an understatement. 

Hell, she was being so loud, her family 4 hours away could probably hear her.

You grinned and picked up your phone, sliding it open to find his contact and call him. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and smiled when he saw your name on the caller ID. Even though it was a little thing, you blushed and felt your heart swell. Everyone called the basketball players slimy, and while many of them were because student athletes were untouchable gods, you’d really lucked out with Siebren. He split off from his group to talk to you without a mass of immature boys listening in.

“Hi sweetheart,” he greeted you, still wearing a cute dopey smile you could see from your seat on the bus as he walked by.

“Hey, baby. Can I ask you a question really quick? It’s nothing scary, I just forgot to ask this morning.”

He laughed, probably expecting you to pull one of those stunts where you convince him you need to ask him an urgent question, only for it to usually be “do you want to come over and cuddle tonight?” or something similar.

“Of course, go ahead.”

“You know I love you, But Bren, baby, what in the  _ fuck _ are you wearing right now?”

“Oh, are you trying to get scandalous with me on the phone, sweetheart?”

“Siebren. You are two steps away from being  _ that _ dumb-ass straight boy that wears shorts all winter.”

He got a kick out of that one. 

“For starters, darling, I am bisexual, and I am wearing sandals instead of shorts during the winter.”

Your friend, who was straining to lean in and hear your conversation, snorted in your ear.

“And why are you wearing them?”

“I want to.”

“I swear to God, the next time I see you with those damn shoes on I’ll… I’ll fucking suck your toes to teach you a lesson, idiot.”

He stopped in his tracks and backed up to lean against a small tree at the stop your bus was currently waiting at. 

He looked beyond amused.

“Is that a threat, sweetheart?”

You tried to shoot the best dirty look you could at him through the nasty glass of the window.

Bastard.

“One hundred percent. Do not make me make good on it, Bren.”

“See you tonight, darling.”

He met your eyes through the window and winked at you before your bus left the stop.

* * *

You pushed through your door and made a beeline for your bed, vowing to nap in the couple hours of free time you had before your boyfriend came over for pizza and a movie. You immediately swapped your jeans and sweater for a tank top and a pair of teeny-tiny shorts Siebren always loved to see you in.

30, 45 minutes, an hour went by. You couldn’t sleep for shit, no matter how hard you tried. 

Curiosity got the better of you.

You rolled over to feel around the covers for your phone and groaned at the thought about what you were about to do. 

Typing in the website URL was like muscle memory, but you still hesitated with every step. Were you getting shy with yourself?

After the homepage of your favorite porn site came up, you rolled to the other side to fumble with the drawer on your bedside table to grab your vibrator, just in case you found anything that happened to strike your fancy after all. 

You felt more awkward than you did the first time you ever looked up porn.

Propping your pillow up, you decided to just sit back and scroll through the categories, browsing what they offered.

Or you really were just too scared to type in the one category you were after.

You took your time browsing through the thumbnails for the different categories by popularity: anal, big tits, blah, boring, public, masturbation.

When you found what you were looking for, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath before pressing down on the screen a little too hard. 

The featured video popped up in an auto-play tab, and you were grateful you didn’t have to sort through tons of videos to find something. It wasn’t like your usual rabbit hole; you didn’t know what you liked here and had no specific criteria for picking something. 

It was simple enough. The video opened with a girl in a schoolgirl outfit sitting back on a couch with her legs open. A man, whose face wasn’t revealed to the camera, came into the frame and grabbed the girl’s ankles. 

He rubbed up and down her calves, accentuated by the dark stockings she was wearing. 

His mouth was immediately all over her feet, being more than generous with sloppy kisses. Even through the stockings.

And was he… nuzzling her foot with his cheek?

The man finally ripped the girl’s stockings and peeled them away from her feet, and then continued his barrage of open-mouthed kisses. Maybe you hadn’t found the right video for you yet? It seemed pretty anticlimactic so far, even with the girl’s loud moaning. 

You browsed the thumbnails below the video, but all of them just featured a bunch of men fucking the space between someone’s oiled feet in the same way they’d fuck someone’s tits. Yawn.

You scrolled back up to the video that was already playing, and it suddenly captured your interest again.

The man had moved past sloppy open-mouthed kisses to weaving his tongue in between the girl’s toes, and giving extra attention to her big toe, which he took in his mouth and sucked it with the enthusiasm someone would usually suck a dick, or even fingers. 

Then he licked a thin stripe from the girl’s heel to her toes, taking her big toe in his mouth again eagerly. 

So… this was basically like a surrogate for a blowjob? 

The girl in the video seemed to be enjoying it, because as the man was going to town on her toes, she was furiously masturbating and getting louder with each individual second. 

You were almost embarrassed at how wet you felt yourself getting after watching all of… that. 

You were distracted from your dripping shame by a knock on your door. 

You were mortified. Siebren was already at your door, and he didn’t have a single clue that you were getting hot and bothered by a porn video of some guy worshiping a girl’s feet. 

He knocked again, lighter this time. You abandoned your efforts, throwing your vibrator back in the drawer and touching up in the mirror before you rushed to the door, trying to be presentable and not give off “I Just Watched Foot Fetish Porn” vibes.

The second you opened the door, Siebren’s lips were on yours in an affectionate kiss. 

You pulled him in the door by the neck of his hoodie, and he answered that by shutting the door behind him and turning around to pin you against it. 

Before you could attempt to break free to say a simple “hi” to him, he aggressively deepened the kiss, slipping his arm behind your back and pulling you tightly against him while his teeth nipped at your lips. 

Between this and getting aroused from the video, you were riled up, to say the least. You wrapped your arms behind his neck and pulled him in closer. You needed him closer, and you needed him now.

You were convinced you were going to pass out from a lack of air, but Siebren separated so he could kiss down your jawline and continue along your neck down to your collarbone so he could leave all the marks he wanted. 

It was your little rule: he could leave as many bruises and bites on you as his heart desired, but they all had to be out of sight in a regular t-shirt. He always took advantage of covering you in them, and you swore your skin always looked more bruised than clear after every night you spent together. 

You wanted to get on with it, so you took hold of his hoodie again and stepped away from the door to pull him toward you as you approached the couch. He raised an eyebrow at how forward you were being, but he seemed to get the idea. 

He discarded his hoodie and reached for the hem of his shirt, but you were impatient and interrupted him to push him down to sit on the couch. You wasted no time in perching in his lap to grind down on him for your own selfish satisfaction. His hands were instantly on your ass, fingers drifting underneath the thin fabric that hardly did its job at covering anything. His large hands held you tight to encourage your hip movements and his fingers dug into the soft and supple flesh. You threw your head back when you got into a rhythm; you’d been waiting too long to feel good.

You didn’t even care when a wet spot started to show on his pants because your shorts were doing nothing to conceal how needy you’d become.

Your boyfriend had a devilish look across his face when your eyes met his. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” He leaned in, voice reducing to a whisper. “I know you can do it. If you are really so desperate, you will make yourself come undone in my lap.”

You whimpered. 

Of course you could. It felt almost humiliating sometimes, knowing that getting off was as easy as rubbing yourself on your boyfriend’s thigh. 

You decided then that you had no dignity left to lose on that night. You pressed yourself against him harder and sped your hips, chasing your high recklessly. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, and as your balance threatened to disappear, you clasped his lean shoulders in your hands and buried your face in his neck, panting. 

He had an iron grip on your body, helping pull and push you back and forth while you ground down against him. 

Right when you were teetering on the edge, you became rigid and pushed on his chest, sitting yourself up straight. It took every drop of your will to stop.

“Hold on, Bren.” You panted between phrases. “Let me… let me make you feel good. Please.” Your wide eyes met his and his motions stilled to let you shift off of him and stand.

Your hands found his waistband, and he did a cute little shimmy to help you pull them off of him while he sat.

You weren’t sure if you were surprised or not that he was going commando. You almost called him cocky for it, but it was valid, because every night he came over, pizza and movies turned into breathless sex before you could pick the movie or order the pizza. 

He was already hard from making out with you and grinding on him, which made your job much easier. 

You leaned down to give him a kiss, then dragged your lips along his jawline before giving him more kisses along his chest. Once you were close enough to his dick you settled with sitting back on your feet between his legs. 

Giving him an experimental tug, you considered teasing him for being so hard already, but you knew you’d only regret it later when your face would inevitably end up buried in the covers while he spanks you until you cry and beg for mercy. 

Not that it would be a bad thing at all. But you had other plans. 

You stuck your tongue out, giving a long lick to the underside of his shaft. Above you, Siebren groaned in appreciation and his eyes shut in anticipation of a full blowjob, which you typically graciously gave to him without having to be asked. 

But after you circled your lips around the head and sucked so lightly he could barely feel it, your lips left his cock and your target of attention changed. You peppered little feather-light pecks along his thigh toward his knee. You backed up, then continued your trail of kisses down his shin, and bent farther down toward the floor with your pace. 

You gave a long and generous final kiss to his ankle before looking up at him to get the okay to keep going. 

He looked shocked, to say the least. A long pause followed; he was unsure if this was actually happening or how he was going to tell you to keep going.

You were just as frozen as he was. He didn’t tell you to stop or move you away, so you took it as a green light. 

Then, with a rush of newly found courage, you thought of one more thing that would blow his mind or make him short-circuit. 

“I want you to touch yourself while I do this, Siebren.”

You encouraged him to feel more comfortable by giving him a small foot rub, leaning against his shin to feel close to him. It took a couple of seconds (which may or may have not felt like a lifetime) before you felt his frame relax and his tenseness slip away. His hand started moving faster on his cock, which was a good sign, one you took as an indication to continue. 

Since you had no idea what you were doing, you thought back to the video and earlier and tried to emulate what you remembered the man doing to the girl. You rubbed up and down his calf, bringing your hands down to lift up his foot to place a single kiss on the top. 

Making sure to maintain eye contact, you took a mental deep breath and brought his big toe between your lips and sucked. It wasn’t as terrifying as you were convinced it would be. It was just like when he would make you suck on his fingers before he prepped you with them. You tried to keep that in mind. 

You then moved from toe to toe on that foot, desperately hoping you were being as convincing as the man in the video was. 

As you got more into it, you could tell your boyfriend was, too. His hand started moving faster and his quiet groans kept getting louder.

You switched to his other foot, following the same motions you used the first time. Around now, it hit you that you never noticed how well Siebren took care of his feet, especially considering he was an athlete. It was probably a European thing, but you were definitely more grateful than critical at the moment. It could’ve been a lot worse. 

You were about to dive your tongue in between his toes when you heard the telltale signs of him getting close to orgasm; he always started muttering things in rushed Dutch and shaking ever so slightly. You sped up and started sloppily giving his foot wet, open-mouthed kisses while you rubbed the other.

He reached his peak quickly, tensing up and digging his free hand into his thigh. You kept up with your kissing and sucking until you could tell he was spent. 

You met eyes again and even though you’d been nice to him, you could tell you were in for it after all. 

“You little fucking fox. We,” he caught his breath, “we are taking this to the bedroom.  _ Now _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to go to my [Tumblr](tumblr.com/adrnired) and scream at me for this sin if you need to.


End file.
